


Gravity

by lateralus112358



Series: Out At The Edge [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lateralus112358/pseuds/lateralus112358
Summary: Shaw fills out paperwork.
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw, Root/Shaw
Series: Out At The Edge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/890229
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Wait, no one was desperate to find out what happens next in my sedate space story? Whoops.

Weight is not a fundamental property of matter. As an effect of the gravitational force between objects, it only appears to be immutable from the perspective of those who are born into it and never traverse outside its grasp; those who do see it revealed as the phantom it is, the shadows of Socrates observed in truth at last. Gravity, then, is the real weight of the universe. All objects of all sizes exerting forces of all magnitudes on all other objects within the span of the cosmos. But is this true? The calculus of the gravitational attraction between two objects is so simple as to be nearly trivial; the masses of both objects multiplied, divided by the square of the distance between their centers of gravity, multiplied by the gravitational constant. The squared factor in the denominator of the equation purports to explain why an object on one side of the universe has no discernible effect on one at the other, even if they are incredibly massive. The force between them decreases exponentially the further away they become, so infinitesimal as to be invisible, yet still present. But again. Is this true? Electric charge is quantized: a single electron carries  
1.602 x 10-19 coulombs of charge, and all objects which carry charge carry some multiple of this value. Could gravity be the same? Is there some minimum value of gravitational force that an object can exert on another, below which the force does not merely become smaller, but ceases to exist altogether? How far apart must they be before they relinquish the ability to affect each other entirely?

A planet exerts a force on a descending spaceship just as surely as the spaceship responds in kind, yet perhaps the attraction feels one-sided. The planet, of course, does not shudder alarmingly as a ship approaches; its inhabitants do not cling to any surface they can find as teeth-rattling vibrations make them suddenly question the sanity of anyone who would willingly place themselves in such a position. The planet shrugs its indifference, any movement on its part imperceptible.

An observer on the surface, however, might notice the craft presently plunging down through the atmosphere, failing to disintegrate in the manner of most interloping objects passing through that caustic medium. A small, mildly reflective dot in the distance. It descends from a magenta sky towards verdant ground broken only by the long, narrow metallic band in which is contained the mass driver, and occasionally by gray rectangular buildings that make up the landing area and shipping warehouses. As the spaceship descends, the hypothetical observer would begin to make out the long, cylindrical shape that would revise their estimation of the craft from ‘spaceship’ to ‘rocket’; an intermediary between planets with deep gravity wells and true spacecraft. The rocket is small, at least when measured on a spacefaring scale, but even so, more than 90% of its volume is solely dedicated to fuel tanks; only the small, tapered section, the ‘nose,’ carries the rocket’s human cargo. The human cargo is also the craft’s only cargo; the fuel costs for moving typical amounts of interplanetary trade merchandise via rockets being so obscene as to be hilarious, as well as impossible. The mass driver clears non-human freight from the planet’s gravity well, while its human caretakers will rendezvous with the cargo hauler via rocket propulsion.

The rocket’s primary thruster fires as it approaches the ground, decelerating its descent. Maneuvering thrusters along its outside edge fire sporadically as well, maintaining the rocket’s 90 degree angle with the landing pad. These will be automated, although no self respecting pilot would take their hands off the manual controls nor relax their tense muscles until the rocket was completely on the ground. 

A shudder rolls across the rocket, and then stills as the thruster powers down and the landing gear makes contact with the pad below. Shaw releases a sigh and her grip on the controls, and reaches up to unlock the helmet from her spacesuit to remove it. The figure strapped into the seat across from her does the same.

“That was fun,” Gen says. “Can I fly next time?”

“Sure.” Shaw grunts, unstrapping herself and stretching sore muscles. Somehow, sitting in place for re-entry and descent is more physically exhausting than anything else she’s done. “See if you can get through eight years of flight school while we’re here.” Her eternal curse is to be constantly surrounded by incessant questions and demands that can be filled by no one except her, although, at the very least, the maturity level of her companions seems to be trending upwards.

***

Interplanetary trade is multi-stage process. Goods are typically acquired and/or manufactured on a planet with atmosphere, to support the development of floral life, as well as human. This brings with it the problem of gravity, and the inability of rockets to economically transport the goods offworld. A mass driver is the next step, a giant, electromagnetically powered coilgun that accelerates large payloads away from the planet, into space, where they are intercepted by low-orbit collaters which then deposit them on a lunar base. This base then serves as the distribution hub for goods, with gravity friendly enough for cargo haulers to simply lift the payloads away without the need for either rockets or mass drivers. Merchandise is then delivered to a variety of locations, typically either a system’s lunar base or some close equivalent, which then takes charge of further distribution within the system. Getting goods back down into the gravity well of a planet poses another problem, one that has been approached in a variety of ways. Some systems have opted to decentralize most civilization from gravity-heavy planets, leaving only a skeleton crew for production on the surface, while all others reside on strings of lunar-and-otherwise bases. The planet Shaw is currently on, with large oceans covering much of its surface, had simply chosen to construct a mass driver on the surface of its moon, which propels payloads on a trajectory to the ocean, where they are later recovered. 

There’s an element of hilarity in the inelegance of this approach, which perhaps is what made it difficult to conceive of; people want to imagine that a beautiful solution is the best one. 

“I think I’m allergic to this place,” Gen says. 

Shaw looks over to where the girl is seated, next to her on the multi-tiered train that runs from the mass driver site to the nearest city, where Shaw will be staying until she’s approved all the cargo manifests and the payloads are en route to the lunar base. The planet’s surface runs rapidly alongside them, as the train speeds down its indiscernible magnetic tracks. The ground is mostly flat, though massive mountains loom near the horizon. The local flora, for whatever evolutionary reason millions have years ago, tends towards being vine-like, spread across the ground in the absence of anything resembling a tree to ascend.

“This stuff is all hypoallergenic,” Shaw says. “You can’t be allergic to it.”

“Well, I am.” Gen replies, and doesn’t say anything else. Maybe she’s sulking, having yet to realize that Shaw’s been inoculated against that tactic by the undisputed master of sulks.

***

The planet is nearest but one to its star, with another dozen planets strung out behind it. The tenth in the system is host to a large array of bases and stations, where Root had disembarked months ago to handle various administrative tasks while Shaw carried on closer to the star. She will remain there until Shaw has loaded up and passes back through on her way out of the system, on to the starshot near the heliopause. Cheap communication is mostly limited to text converted to strings of binary, transmitted and retransmitted through the system, usually reaching the other end between ten and fifteen hours later. Shaw types out a message now, in her temporary lodgings, which will be sent to the city’s main transmitter once she’s done.

Arrived planetside. Going to deal with contracts and manifests tomorrow. Mass driver rendezvous set for next week. Got a kid on lunar base. See you soon. Shaw.

Shaw sighs and stands, walking over to the window of their main room, which overlooks the city, a series of tall, spindly buildings standing on the surface like needles, interspersed among one level buildings around their bases. She looks up, to the moon, where the base station’s lights are clearly visible on its surface in the night sky.

The kid had been in a bad situation, without hardly any real family. Transport to the surface cost money, which she obviously didn’t have. Shaw doesn’t care for kids, but she cares even less for people who would mistreat one, so contempt had driven her to offer the girl a ride down to the surface. She was going anyway, barely changed the cost of her fuel at all.

Gen had gone to her own room earlier. Shaw yawns. It’s been a long day.

***

“I want to come with you.” Gen says.

“Look,” Shaw says, frustratedly, because this conversation has happened at least five times already. “I’m doing you a favor. You haven’t met Root.”

“I know a lot about other systems,” Gen insists. “I could be really helpful.”

“I don’t need a kid to take care of.”

“I can take care of myself,” Gen shoots back.

“Then take care of yourself here.”

***

Root’s reply comes in later that day.

Sameen, you know there’s almost no cost difference between 20 words and 200, right? Or 2000, for that matter. No need to be so terse. I haven’t heard your voice in months, except for my old radio recordings. Remember those? I always got you to open up. 

I had an idea for a new signal array for once we get back to the belt, but it’s hard to explain in text. I’ll show you some sketches when we see each other. Did you know no one here can cook? I miss your meals.

Also, are you telling me you’re pregnant? I’ve been trying my hardest, but I didn’t think it would actually work. Are we going to be moms?

See you soon, but not soon enough.

Love, Root

Shaw sends a response.

I’m tired and I don’t like typing. Kid needed to get down to the surface. She keeps asking to come but we don’t need passengers. Send me a list of anything you want while I’m here. Shaw.

***

Being on a planet again always reminds Shaw why she went as far out into space as she could in the first place. Too many people. Paperwork, too. A shocking amount of pages require signatures before merchandise can be moved from its warehouses into payloads ready to be slotted into the mass driver. Gen accompanies Shaw while she’s doing this, because she’s not really sure how to get rid of her, and because she thinks the girl would get up to trouble if left out of sight for too long. Gen doesn’t talk much, but looks over everything single item order and manifest that Shaw signs, as if determined to gain enough knowledge to justify her presence on their cargo hauler.

When they return to their rooms, another message from Root is waiting to be read. The first part Shaw skims over, which consists of a list of things Root wants, some of which are actual physical items, and the rest of which seem to be physical acts she is requesting to be performed on her. Shaw’s pretty sure these messages get screened at every station they pass through, so there’s no way she’s replying to any of that. 

Sam, bring her if you want to bring her. I can get the paperwork started while you’re on the way. I miss you.

Love, Root

***

“One condition,” Shaw says to Gen, who currently has her arms wrapped around her. “You’ve got to talk to Root. She never leaves me alone and I need personal space.”

***

The rocket pulls away from the planet’s surface. Gravity decreases, but does not release its hold entirely. 

**Author's Note:**

> Will being quarantined result in me writing more? Probably not, since the issue isn't that I lack free time to write, it's that I'm a lazy asshole.
> 
> Nonetheless, I am grateful, as always, to people who read my stories, leave kudos, and comments. I will do my best to continue writing space themed stories no one asked for featuring your favorite characters.


End file.
